


till we're feeling sparks

by interstellarbeams



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 12:51:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11829123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interstellarbeams/pseuds/interstellarbeams
Summary: Michelle had gone to sleep that night expecting to wake up to opening day of her art exhibit but the fire alarm system had other plans.





	till we're feeling sparks

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: Nora ([Green Fish](http://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenFish))
> 
> prompt requested by Corinne ([corinnemaree](http://archiveofourown.org/users/corinnemaree/pseuds/corinnemaree))
> 
> I know this has been _done_ but I'm pretty sure it hasn't been done with this ship! ;)

prompt: the fire alarm went off at 3 am and now the cute guy from the flat next door is standing next to me in his underwear

\-----

 

The loud and constant buzzing of the fire alarm system woke Michelle out of a deep sleep. Pushing herself up onto her elbow, she peered at the alarm clock on her nightstand, the red 3:00 am taunting her relentlessly.

“Shit,” she cursed as she threw on a sweatshirt over her flannel pajamas. “Five years in this damn apartment, and the fire alarm goes off the _night_ before my art exhibit opening.”

Stepping out into the hall and locking the door -- just in case -- she followed the trail of sleepy, out-of-sorts tenants outside into the late winter predawn.

The crowd milled around, talking and staring at the flames in stunned horror. 

She looked down the street at the neighboring Italian restaurant, flames flaring out of the windows, licking up the outside walls. She prayed, even though she wasn't technically religious, that the fire would be contained, before it did any real damage to her apartment building.

“That's a shame,” a voice spoke to her right, “they really had delicious bolognese.” 

She looked over at him, stunned to see a young man of about her age, wearing nothing but a pair of blue plaid boxers.

“Excuse _me_?” Michelle blurted out, distracted for a moment by his six pack abs and his adorable grin.

“They had really delicious bolognese and the garlic bread… _wow_ , now I’m hungry,” he chuckled. 

“Um, yeah. I’m not a big fan of meat, I’m a vegetarian, actually - but good garlic bread I _can_ get behind.” 

Michelle shivered suddenly, as a chill wind blew down the street. Despite the heat from the fire, the cold air was biting as water spilled out on the street from the fire hoses.

“I’m Michelle, by the way.” She reached out her hand and he clasped it in his surprisingly warm palm. 

_Why is this guy so warm? It's close to forty degrees out here. Is he a human furnace or something?_ she wondered.

“Peter,” he offered back, smiling politely like they were at a block party instead of the middle of a soggy, trash-infested street at 3 am. “Peter Parker.”

“Parker, _Parker_...” Michelle pondered out loud. “Parker, _oh_ ,” she said, realizing. “You're my neighbor and my mailbox is right next to yours. That's funny.”

“Yeah, I guess it is,” Peter snorted, sarcastically.

Michelle didn't know whether to be offended or to laugh along with him. It really _wasn't_ funny, but she _had_ made the stupid comment, after all.

She continued to watch as the firefighters worked to put out the fire, her breath forming clouds in front of her. 

After a moment of silence, she asked, “Um-- do you mind if I ask you something?” 

“Shoot.” Peter crossed his arms over his bare chest, as comfortable as you please.

“Where are your clothes?” Michelle asked, glancing over her shoulder at the nosy older woman that lived down the hall, who appeared to be glaring at Michelle.

What was _she_ staring at? This Peter guy was the one who was half-dressed! 

“Um-- oh _yeah_ ,” he said, looking down at himself, his face coloring slightly. “Actually, it's kind of a funny story-- involving some insoluble chemicals I was working with, and my only pair of pajama pants...” Peter trailed off and shrugged, finally seeming to feel the cold as he shivered. 

Michelle was actually standing close enough to see the goosebumps popping up on his arms. She didn’t even want to ask about why he was mixing chemicals in his apartment. Or for that matter, why the guy only owned _one_ pair of pajama pants. _Gross._

Feeling sorry for his predicament, though, she pulled off her sweatshirt and offered it to him. He took it from her reflexively and held it gingerly in front of him.

“Ah - no, I can’t, um - take your sweatshirt.” Peter tried to hand it back to her.

Michelle gave him a look. “You really should put that on before you start showing signs of hypothermia. I’m not going to strip and warm you up later if your lips start to turn blue.”

“So you’re saying you won't strip if I start turning _blue_ , but you might strip on other occasions?” Peter teased, a smile lighting up his face.

“Excuse me?” Michelle stared at him, frankly with arms crossed.

Peter laughed, as he pulled the sweatshirt over his head. 

“Thank you,” he said, pulling the sleeves over his hands. “I didn't actually think about how cold it was out here. To be honest, I was more worried about getting too toasty inside a burning apartment building.”

“Yeah, yeah-- I gotcha,” Michelle smiled softly, tucking her straggling bangs behind her ear.

“I actually happen to really like looking at tea set printed flannel pajamas, anyway,” he teased, knocking his shoulder into hers, almost knocking her over.

_What? It wasn't her fault that he was completely distracting, even wearing her sweatshirt._

His legs were still bare and she could see the definition of his calf muscles as she lurched forward.

“ _Oh_ , sorry, sorry,” he said, grabbing onto her arm and pulling her back upright. The warmth of his hand could be felt through her pajama sleeve, and she started to blush.

It was kind of a delayed reaction, but she shoved him in the shoulder for the pajama comment. Why was she suddenly treating this random guy, that she had just met for the first time today, so familiar-like? 

They didn't know anything about each other.

“Sorry - I, uh, probably shouldn't have done that…” Michelle trailed off, her gaze shifting up at his dark eyes. Their street wasn't the most well-lit, so it was hard to tell what color they were, but they seemed kind, and had wrinkles around them, so she assumed he probably smiled a lot. 

She hoped he wasn't some kind of creeper.

“Ah, nah, it's okay, I deserved it, really. I was just trying to break the ice. I’m sorry if I offended you or anything,” Peter apologized, watching her intently.

“Well, I think standing in the middle of a freezing-cold street with a bunch of strangers wearing only boxer shorts was a pretty good ice breaker in itself,” she teased.

She felt oddly grateful when he didn't look away or walk off but stayed next to her as they watched the firefighters work.

“I wonder how much longer this is gonna take,” Michelle spoke after a few minutes.

“I dunno. It probably depends on whether the fire was started by grease or gas, I think. Or otherwise. Who really knows.” 

“So… what do you do for a living?” Michelle asked, curiously.

“I uh-- work for a private start-up company. I get to use my passion for scientific research and chemistry equations,” Peter shrugged, “ _and_ I get to enjoy it, through my chemical engineering job.” 

“So you're bringing your work home with you, only to destroy your only pair of pajama pants. Isn't that kind of dangerous, in a neighborhood prone to building fires?” Michelle teased.

“Heh, yeah,” he rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “I like to live on the edge, I guess.”

“Apparently.”

“So what about you? What do you do?” 

“Oh,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “I’m an artist, actually. My first exhibit opening is tomorrow. This was the first night in a month that I was actually able to fall asleep, and then this happened… it's just really screwing me over.”

“That I definitely understand. Not being able to sleep, I mean. I’m an insomniac, so that's why I was doing work in the middle of the night,” Peter admitted, sheepishly.

“Oh, well at least you were being constructive while wide awake, instead of playing video games - or eating junk food.”

“Actually, I was just about to open a bag of Doritos before the fire alarm went off.”

“What a coincidence,” Michelle smirked, crossing her arms.

“I know, I know - but sometimes you've got to indulge a few cravings,” Peter looked up from his perusal of the cracked sidewalk.

“ _Cravings_ , huh? Interesting.”

“Yeah, I uh-- you know-- have certain cravings, from time to time. Like, um… I’m kind of interested in this girl, who uh, wears flannel pajama sets and allows complete strangers to wear her sweatshirts. Oh, and I heard she strips, too,” Peter whispered, behind his hand, like he was telling a national secret. 

“Oh, _really?_ ” Michelle stepped closer. “How do you know these things?”

“Well, she told me.” He scuffed his shoe -- _imagine that, wearing shoes but no clothes_ \-- against the gravel on the ground.

Michelle smiled at him, shyly. “Well then, you aren't really strangers, are you?”

“I’m not sure. I don't know her last name, but uh-- she knows mine.” He smiled at her, lifting his hand to her cheek and smoothing his thumb against the corner of her mouth.

_What was she doing? This guy is a complete stranger. Why am I letting him touch me like this?_

“ _Jones_ , it's Michelle Jones,” she spouted, surprising even herself.

She would probably blame it on the lateness of the hour, or the stress of the moment later, but right then, she didn't really care that she had barely known this guy for an hour.

Her eyes had hardly closed, as he leaned forward, and continued to caress her bottom lip with his thumb. Suddenly a voice shouted nearby, startling both of them.

“Alright, you folks in the neighboring buildings can go back to your apartments. The fire has been extinguished. We’ll have a crew monitoring the site for the next day or two to make sure there aren’t any hot-spots, but there isn’t any immediate danger any more.” He continued to offer instructions regarding smoke damage, or something - but Michelle couldn’t focus. Her mind was spinning from what had almost happened.

She immediately pulled away from Peter. Her face felt like it was burning up. _Michelle_ \-- sensible, datebook owning, planner Michelle -- had almost kissed some random guy on the street, while a fire burned down someone's livelihood. What was she _thinking_?

“I - I, uh, should probably get inside.” She gestured to the exodus of tenants that were filing back into the buildings around them. 

“Oh, uh-- okay. Yeah. I guess I’ll see you around, then, _neighbor_.” He turned around, following old Mrs. _Nosy_ down the sidewalk and back to their building.

_What was she thinking? Oh my god, she had to call him back. He might never talk to her again!_

“Peter!” she called after him.

“Yeah?” he turned around swiftly, walking back to where she was standing.

“Don't forget about my sweatshirt!” Michelle blurted out, unable to think of anything witty. “Um, I mean - you can come back to my apartment with me, if you want. So you don’t forget.”

 _Stupid, stupid._ He probably thought she was propositioning him, inviting him back!

“Yeah, okay. Sounds like a plan,” he responded cheerfully, and held out his arm. “Lead the way, Ms. Jones.”

\-----

The trip up the stairs was slow and uneventful but they finally made it to their floor.

“You know, I’m starting to think I might have hypothermia, after all,” Peter stated seriously as he stood outside her apartment door. 

“Yeah, right,” Michelle rolled her eyes, but she let him into her apartment anyways. “Just so we’re clear, I’m not stripping for you.”

She saw him grin briefly as he glanced around her living room, and she threw the bolt on the door. After flipping on the lights, she gestured at the small, overstuffed loveseat, and headed towards the kitchen. 

“How about I make you something to eat, since your Doritos break got interrupted?” 

“Uh-- sure,” he said gamely. “What do you have?”

“Well… um. I can make you avocado toast, or, uh, a bowl of granola with almond milk?” Michelle grimaced as she glanced inside the fridge. “I’m not much of a cook, unfortunately. Sorry.”

“I’ll take the cereal,” Peter answered, crossing the living room and following her to the small formica table, where she set out a bowl of cereal and a spoon. She poured out the milk into the bowl, and put the carton back in the fridge.

Michelle joined him at the table, sitting across from him. “Would you like something to drink? Besides, uh, the almond milk, that is?”

“This is fine, thanks,” Peter smiled politely.

“Well, I’m going to make some tea for myself,” she said, getting up from the table and putting the kettle onto the stovetop. “I’m sure I’ll need the energy in a few hours.”

Peter finished his cereal quickly, and turned around to watch Michelle putter around her kitchen.

Standing up, he came to stand close to her at the counter.

“Listen,” he started, “um, about what happened out there on the street. Uh-- I’m sorry if I, uh, crossed any boundaries.”

“No, it's really okay. It was my fault, I think,” Michelle admitted, staring down at the dish towel she was gripping in her hand. “Actually, you kinda surprised me, that's all. I didn't expect to be up this early and then you were out there, trying to charm _my_ pants off. I think, ah... you might have succeeded,” she admitted, glancing into his eyes quickly before turning away again. 

“ _Really_?” he asked, quickly, his voice raising an octave on the last syllable. It was kind of adorable.

“Yeah,” she bit her lip, tilting her head to watch his reaction.

“Do you want to wait for your--” he started, before he was cut off by her lips.

Michelle hoped he liked a girl with initiative, because she had just taken a major leap forward in their short-lived relationship.

He must have appreciated it, because he gripped her waist tightly in his still too-warm hands as he pushed her into the countertop.

 _God, he was a great kisser_ , she thought, as he nipped at her bottom lip with his teeth.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he lifted her up onto the countertop. _And he was strong-- shit, she was in trouble_ , she thought belatedly, as she opened her mouth to his.

The shrill whistle of the kettle broke them apart and Michelle pressed her fingertips to her lips as he reached over to pull it off of the heat.

Peter shook his head, in amusement, when he turned around and saw her standing there, trying to process the moment. 

“I still think you should help me with my hypothermia,” he said. 

“Shut up,” Michelle laughed, kissing him back as he wrapped his arms around her.

_He might be a near stranger, but damn it, he could kiss, and she deserved something good after getting woken up so frickin’ early._

Maybe they would just start their own fire.


End file.
